


Thirteen Ghosts

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Drabble, During Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-16
Updated: 2006-06-16
Packaged: 2018-09-03 12:49:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8714587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: A baker's dozen of drabbles, slash and (mostly) gen, 100, 150 or 200 words.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

Thirteen Ghosts

_**SPN Fic: Thirteen Ghosts**_  
Title: Thirteen Ghosts  
Author: Stone Princess  
Fandom: Supernatural  
Pairing: some Sam/Dean  
Rating: 18+  
Category: drabbles, adult content  
Spoilers:   
Date: Feb 2006  
Summary: A baker's dozen of drabbles, slash and (mostly) gen, 100, 150 or 200 words.  
  
Disclaimer: I owe the creators of Supernatural a huge debt for giving me something wonderful to work with. I do not own or have any rights to the characters herewithin.  
  
Note: Drabbles written for prompts. Thanks to [ ](http://joyfulgirl41.livejournal.com/profile)[**joyfulgirl41**](http://joyfulgirl41.livejournal.com/) for audiencing and speedy beta. Remaining mistakes are my own.  
  
****  
  
**Accidents Will Happen**  
  
Sam gritted his teeth at the sharp pinch of the needle as it pierced his skin. Dean was silent while he stitched the slash that ran down Sam's right thigh, though Sam could feel Dean's anger bubbling under the surface.  
  
"Didn't Dad teach you anything?" Dean finally grumbled.  
  
Sam couldn't do anything but laugh. "What about you? You're the one that cut _me_!"  
  
"You should have gotten out of the way!" Dean yelled, then faltered, his face going soft. "I'm sorry Sam, you know I'd never hurt you on purpose."  
  
"I know." Sam saw the care in Dean's even stitches.  
  
  
For [ ](http://innie-darling.livejournal.com/profile)[**innie_darling**](http://innie-darling.livejournal.com/), prompt: thigh, teach, pinch (gen)  
  
***  
  
**First**  
  
It's not as awkward as he expected. Dean can't say who started it. Lips pressed together where before they weren't. Sam tastes of candy and himself. Dean wants rush it, to own it, to keep it, but he doesn't. He opens to Sam's gently probing tongue and just falls into the kiss.  
  
When it ends, Dean knows it's only the beginning of everything.  
  
Sam's scent is salt, rain, comfort and sin, personal perfume he's had ever since he stopped being a boy. Dean presses his face into Sam's neck, inhaling, finally belonging, like the last piece has fallen into place.  
  
  
For [ ](http://hammerhead22.livejournal.com/profile)[**hammerhead22**](http://hammerhead22.livejournal.com/), prompt: Candy perfume boy. Dean. (slash)  
  
***  
  
**Night Watch**  
  
It was too dark for Sam to see further than the cotton-puff of his breath in the cold air. He'd taken the last watch, time slowing and twisting as he sat waiting, though not watchful enough. Dean arrived with coffee, signaling the imminent dawn better than the birds or the faint bluing of the sky. As he took the cup, Dean's fingers met his with sharp shock of bodily recognition and Sam had to push away the nighttime thoughts that tried to creep back in. He tried not to wish for a touch from Dean that had intention and promise.  
  
  
For [ ](http://cosmic.livejournal.com/profile)[**cosmic**](http://cosmic.livejournal.com/), prompt: cotton, sharp, coffee.  
  
***  
  
**Breakfast**  
  
The car wasn't moving when Sam woke up, the hood was up, nothing for miles outside the windows. Sam roused himself quickly and got out to find out what was wrong.  
  
"What the fuck are you doing?" Sam asked, confused by what he found.  
  
"Contrary to popular opinion, you can't cook your road kill on your radiator and eat well; Pop-Tarts are a different matter entirely." Dean smiled, rocking back happily on his heels, full of pride at his ingenuity.  
  
"Are you seriously going to eat that?"  
  
"Want one?" Dean produced an unopened foil packet from his jacket pocket.  
  
"No, I'll eat it cold." Sam snatched the Pop-Tart from Dean before his brother could taint it with motor oil and redneck sensibilities.  
  
"I'll be in the car." Sam scowled but inside he was smiling, happy in the consistency he found in the peculiarity of their life together on the road.  
  
  
For [ ](http://wendywoowho.livejournal.com/profile)[**wendywoowho**](http://wendywoowho.livejournal.com/), prompt: "Contrary to popular opinion, you can't cook your road kill on your radiator and eat well; Pop-Tarts are a different matter entirely." (slash or gen, your pick)  
  
***  
  
**Backseat**  
  
"I don't think Sam's ready to fight something like this." Dean smiled over the back of the seat at Sam, no joy in it, only a taunt.  
  
Since he'd turned fifteen, Dean spoke with an authority he didn't really have. But his words hurt and Sam balled his mitten-covered hand into a fist. It looked round and soft, like a peach, held no threat of violence, no insurance that Dean wouldn't continue to make fun of him. Instead of lashing out, Sam waited, not breathing, until Dad finally spoke.  
  
"Sam's ready, he's as tough as you were at his age."  
  
  
For [ ](http://stormcloude.livejournal.com/profile)[**stormcloude**](http://stormcloude.livejournal.com/), prompt: Insurance, peach (the fruit), mitten.  
  
***  
  
**False**  
  
The guy wipes his hand carelessly across the back of his mouth before he gets up off the cold bathroom tile. Dean turns away before their eyes meet and zips himself back up, washes his hands, does whatever he can to ignore his tall, lanky one-time partner. Dark eyes, too familiar tumble of hair that made Dean's heart skip. It's too hard to look now, because he's no longer aching for release, Dean can see all the differences, all the signs that point to it not being Sam, not even close enough to pretend for longer than bathroom sex takes.  
  
  
For [ ](http://veradeath.livejournal.com/profile)[**veradeath**](http://veradeath.livejournal.com/), prompt: cold, sex, heart (slash)  
  
***  
  
**As One**  
  
Dean's eyes sometimes looked like a mirror, rather than a window to the soul, except in moments like this. With his pupils blow wide by desire, Sam knew he saw everything in them. Always wound, a tight coil of energy, a force almost beyond control. Except in moments like these when Dean lay a loose, satiated sprawl, power still humming under his skin. Lips, hands, guttural moan and Sam knew these were the moments that mattered, when they kissed, touched, moved together. When the heat between them felt like it might burn them both to nothing and nothing else mattered.  
  
  
For [ ](http://ahestele.livejournal.com/profile)[**ahestele**](http://ahestele.livejournal.com/), prompt: mirror, control, heat (slash)  
  
***  
  
**Still**  
  
Dean knotted his fingers in to Sam's hair, pulled until their eyes met.  
  
"Don't turn away," Dean whispered against Sam's lips before they met, merged, became lost in the deep, wet heat of a kiss. His fingers, slick with lube, loosened and stretched. Sam jerked his hips, writhed at the touch. "It's okay, you're okay." Dean's voice in his ear now, the kiss broken.  
  
When Dean pushed in Sam hadn't known what to expect.  
  
"Don't give into the pain," Dean soothed. "Stay with me." Dean didn't move, just let Sam feel him. Sam didn't move, just let Dean fill him.  
  
  
For [ ](http://quietdiscerning.livejournal.com/profile)[**quietdiscerning**](http://quietdiscerning.livejournal.com/), prompt: Don't turn away, don't give into the pain. (slash)  
  
***  
  
**Normal**  
  
Dean spends two nights watching, sees nearly everyone who lives in Sam's dorm. _On the inside, you're all the same,_ Dean thinks, _but we're different, better. So why does he want your lives and not what he had?_ It's a question Dean knows there is no answer for. The glimpses he catches of Sam around campus offer nothing more than a deep ache and memories of what they could have been, what they should never be, what Dean still dreams about. _You can still come back to me._ Dean leaves without speaking to Sam, but hopes that Sam heard him.  
  
For [ ](http://suaine.livejournal.com/profile)[**suaine**](http://suaine.livejournal.com/), prompt: "On the inside, you're all the same." (slash)  
  
***  
  
**Promises**  
  
Dean couldn't see Sam at first, in the dark, rough, crush of bushes. It was his voice the brought Dean to the right place.  
  
"Don't make me get back up," Sam slurred when Dean finally found him. "Come down, Dean, lie down. Lie down with me and stay." Sam's lips were brilliant with blood against the wax-pallor of his skin.  
  
"Come on, Sam, we've got to go. Let's find you a hospital, okay?" Dean waded through the juniper, hating the gin-scent of the berries as they crushed beneath his boots.  
  
"No more, Dean, can't go, just stay with me," Sam babbled when Dean pulled him up, tried to get a grip in the slick blood, tried to lift Sam without hurting him more.  
  
"I'll always stay with you, Sammy," Dean replied.  
  
If Sam was truly going to die, then yes, Dean would lie down with him and die as well. But carrying Sam back to the car, to help, to safety, was the easiest thing Dean ever did. The photograph imprint of Sam asking him to stay vivid in his mind. He would always stay with Sam, but tonight neither of them had to die to make that promise true.  
  
  
For [ ](http://peeled-banana.livejournal.com/profile)[**peeled_banana**](http://peeled-banana.livejournal.com/), prompt: wax, gin, photograph (slash)  
  
***  
  
**Bright**  
  
Sitting on the edge of the bed, Dean rubbed sleep from his eyes, finally focusing on and swearing at the jovial print of frolicking Poodle puppies above the TV. He stumbled past cheery floral wallpaper and lacy curtains to the tiny bathroom. Lemon colored tile gleamed merrily at him and Dean was about to tell it to fuck off when he noticed the Post-it note on the mirror: _Good morning, sunshine! Back soon,_ it said in Sam's slanted handwriting. Back soon with coffee, Dean hoped, because he needed it to keep from burning this hellishly cheerful place to the ground.   
  
  
For [ ](http://maveness.livejournal.com/profile)[**maveness**](http://maveness.livejournal.com/), prompt: Lemon, Post-it notes, Poodle  
  
***  
  
**Adrift**  
  
Seeing the lone palm tree amid so much mid-western landscaping made Sam feel lost. It called to him, a burning flag of a port he'd docked in but could never call home again. He was born of immaculate conception to this life, always one broken promise away from becoming a psycho killer. Dean moved, unintentionally blocking Sam's view of the palm, replacing it with his profile in stark contrast against the blue sky, becoming an anchor, steadying Sam. Division by zero had left Sam back where he began, where he needed to be, with Dean, in the here an now.  
  
  
For [ ](http://babyofthegroup.livejournal.com/profile)[**babyofthegroup**](http://babyofthegroup.livejournal.com/), prompt: psycho killer, immaculate conception, division by zero (Sam-centric is all I ask; whether it be gen or slash doesn't matter.)  
  
***  
  
**All's Well**  
  
Some days, what they really needed was a do-over. Monster fighting was inherently cool according to Dean, but now, covered in pink slime that smelled of turned eggs, Sam was sure it had uncool moments.  
  
They just hadn't been in sync all day, too many near misses, too many almost fatalities, but finally the evil was banished.  
  
Dean had made them sit on Hefty bags to keep the stink slime off the upholstery.  
  
It wasn't until Dean stepped into the shower and slid his arms around Sam's waist that Sam thought maybe it wasn't such a bad day after all.  
  
For [ ](http://scribblinlenore.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://scribblinlenore.livejournal.com/)**scribblinlenore** , prompt: Some days, what they really needed was a do-over. (slash)  
  
~finis~


End file.
